Red Whiteville and Blue
Red Whiteville and Blue has all the trappings of a Frank Capra picture.
Small-town, plain folks join together in the face of economic hardship, seemingly powerless in the face of corporate greed and political opportunism. Their inspiration is a community organizer, who, without much blame could simply lead a self-interested and comfortable life. It is a ridiculously entertaining formula, as inspiring as it is hopeful. The only Capraesque element it lacks is the happy ending that reassures the audience that the moral arc of the universe really does bend towards justice. Perhaps it does. Perhaps it will. But documentaries are rarely able to tie up all the loose ends in a satisfying dramatic conclusion.
The community organizer here is Erica Payne, a long-time political fundraiser who traded in appearances on cable news for community dinners in working-class neighborhoods, trying to convince polarized neighbors to work together to advocate for living wages. The citizens tick all the boxes one might expect from an election-year focus group. Trump regretters and Trump enthusiasts who had long ago grown disenchanted with the empty promises of politics as usual. Democrats suspicious of their right-wing neighbors. Everyone either working multiple jobs to stay just this side of the poverty line or trying to stretch pennies by shopping at three different markets.
Payne represents the Patriotic Millionaires, a group that funds community meetings centered around economic issues in the hopes that once the free meals go away, the citizens will be invested enough to continue their activism. Her donors say things like, “I’ve had opportunities that don’t exist anymore” and “[I]am not anti-rich, I am anti-unfairness.” They bus citizens to Raleigh to meet with their state legislators, many of whom — surprise! — won’t even meet with them. One of the many ironies here is that their district elects the state majority leader, a man whose legislative power comes from the conviction that his district is so uncontestable that he doesn’t even have to pretend to care about the voters. These aren’t swing districts; they are gerrymandered fiefdoms. Payne doesn’t speak truth to power; she tries to get the most powerless to do so.
Will it work? I can only hope so. North Carolina is a purple state run by a manufactured red supermajority, and the parties increasingly appear to spend more money contesting and staying in power than in actually governing. Its minimum wage, $7.25 per hour, is less than a third of what is calculated as a living wage in Wake County, and a mere penny about the poverty line (for an adult with no children) living in the state capital.
That being said, the thing that makes the film work on a human level is the interaction between the Whiteville residents. They are as different as different can be, but over the course of the film, they come see one another. They are transformed not by the power of polemic but by their daily interactions with one another.
The purpose of the Patriotic Millionaires is said to be to help people “find their better selves […] before it is too late.” Perhaps that best self is revealed not by one’s voting record or party affiliation but by being willing to work with and alongside others, despite their voting record or party affiliation, for the betterment of all, regardless of voting record or party affiliation.
Red Whiteville and Blue played at the 2024 Full Frame Documentary Film Festival.
